In the Palm of his Hands
by Kebara
Summary: Harry has always tried to fill the expectations of the people around him. Anyone and everyone had an opinion of who Harry Potter should be. When he finally reaches his breaking point he strikes out on his own, setting off a series of events that bring him on a globetrotting adventure where discovering his freedom just might lead to discovering who he wants to be. AU 4th year.
1. It Begins

Summary: Harry has always tried to fill the expectations of the people around him. Anyone and everyone had an opinion of who Harry Potter should be. When he finally reaches his breaking point he strikes out on his own, setting off a series of events that bring him on a globetrotting adventure where discovering his freedom just might lead to discovering who he wants to be.

A/N: this is a story that I thought up a long time ago with a good friend of mine. Note that as this is an AU a lot of people are probably going to be at least a little OOC especially Harry, but I am going to stick to a few solid personality traits.

I very much do not own anything to do with Harry Potter. At all.

Please enjoy.

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Prologue – In Which It Begins

June 4th – Location: Unknown

Our story begins surprisingly not with a dark and stormy night. In fact it was a rather warm summer evening, one that usually finds friends and family sitting together and enjoying each other's company and fresh air. However despite the pleasant evening there were still of course some people who were doings things that were decidedly unpleasant.

As an active and valued member of the Order of the Phoenix, Remus Lupin was one of the few doing just that. He should have been spending a lovely night at home relaxing. Instead, this poor man was trudging through a veritable jungle of foliage that seemed to fit right into the idea of cursed forest.

What dastardly plot could have possibly brought him out to this isolated area under the cover of darkness?

Silently Remus cursed Dumbledore for sending him out here.

Even though he was the obvious choice for speaking with these people he wished that Albus could have possibly sent someone else with him, though he grudgingly understood his lack of partner. After all werewolves tended to be a suspicious bunch when it concerned people trying to pull them out of isolation and having a group of wizards barge into their homes was indeed more alarming then a single lycanthrope. He supposed he was only so nervous because he just wasn't as comfortable with his affliction as these people tended to be and his aversion to their choices made the meetings all the more awkward and difficult.

This entire situation had all started after the disaster that was the Tri-Wizard tournament. The return of the Dark Lord had lit a veritable fire under the Order and the various members were scrambling to prepare as best they could for the approaching war.

He of course had been tasked with trying to convince as many werewolf groups that he could find that siding with the Dark Lord in the upcoming conflicts was a major mistake.

That was how he found himself on the backwater roads in the middle of who had any idea where he was. In fact he hadn't even seen any kind of trail or pathway in hours let alone a road. Of course Dumbledore had no idea where the exact location of the group was and Remus had no idea why the older man thought he would have had any idea either, his own home being much closer to civilization. When he mentioned that he really wasn't sure where he was supposed to be looking all the Headmaster had told him was, _"Trust your instincts my boy, they will not lead you astray."_

Remus scoffed. His instincts had lead him astray a great many times in the years gone by.

Foremost in his memory was never suspecting that Peter Pettigrew was as much a rat as his form showed and instead believing that Sirius, his best friend and brother in everything but blood had betrayed James, Lily and Harry. Sirius had loved them more than he loved himself, which was a great feat for the entirely too vain animagus. Good lot his instincts had done for him so far.

Thinking of Sirius made him remember the unfortunate man was currently shut in his old childhood home at number 12 Grimmauld Place. A prisoner of circumstance in an entirely too dusty cell he could certainly do with some company. God knows he must have already completely trashed some of the house as a dog.

Maybe when he finished talking with the werewolves he could meet with Sirius and sit to have a good long talk, maybe soon they could also bring Harry to the house. That would certainly brighten Sirius' mood.

His budding smile slowly slid off his face as Remus looked around himself again and sighed. How was he supposed to find anything at this time of night? Being a werewolf came with certain advantages in the fields of night vision, enhanced smell and the like but that didn't stop him from being far too tired of his search already to even try and continue. The wind was picking up, throwing clouds across the sliver of moon in the sky. He heaved the strap of his bag back up his shoulder and decided that here was a good as any spot for the tent for the night when suddenly he heard the snap of a branch underfoot.

"Hello?" he called, startled, raising his wand in what he hoped was the right direction.

It was clear when the next moment his consciousness left him that it wasn't.


	2. Happiness Is A Distant Star

Hello, thank you for the positive feedback.

Chapter 1: In Which Happiness Is A Distant Star

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June 5th - Location: The Smallest Bedroom, 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, England

Harry Potter was not doing very well thank you very much. In fact the level of well he felt was incredibly far from what was normal for general society.

The lanky boy of fourteen had sat in the corner of his room upon his return the Privet Drive some days ago wrapped himself in the old throw from his bed and had since then nary made a single move.

Harry supposed that he was a little grateful that his family had yet to start their regular summer routine of having him slave away at the various chores to be done in and around the house. It gave him the bit of peace and quiet he fiercely needed. Though he was quite certain when they finally got their wits about them that he'd be getting none of rest he needed.

Huddled like he was Duddly's hand me downs looked even worse on him than normal, the originally baggy clothing seemed to already pool around him as if he were wasting away a little every minute. If anyone could have caught a glimpse of his face they would have seen the shadowed eyes of a young man who hadn't slept a solid night for some time. Even his rather famous bird's nest of a hair style had seemed to be weighed down by the heavy atmosphere.

Actually that was probably from not washing it.

A scowl made its way onto the young man's face. His hands were clenching and unclenching around his knees in discomfort, his magic buzzing beneath his skin in irritation.

He let out a great sigh, leaning back into the wall with a small thunk.

'_What am I doing'_ thought Harry slowly uncoiling from his corner, _'What would Ron and Hermione say if they saw me like this'._

He pictured Hermione fluttering around him like a miniature Madam Pomfry, tsking at his state of disarray demanding he see one of the professors like it would solve all of his problems. A small smirk emerged before it was wiped off as he remembered the warning Professor Dumbledore had given him before leaving Hogwarts.

_The headmaster had taken him aside on their way to the train, and took it upon himself to lay out the rules for him "Harry my boy, with everything that has happened I find it best that you try not to contact anyone this summer, I've already warned your friends not to write you. Don't worry though you'll be able to meet with everyone later, until then I'm sure you'll be just fine back with your relatives". He'd then walked right back through the school gates long beard being worried away by his fingers._

'_Not likely'_ he scoffed. He rose slowly, supporting himself with the wall. He felt the twinge of muscles that have stayed in one place for too long but slowly made his way to the door and into the hall. Leaning out into the hall he listened to the rest of the house…. Not a squeak

'_Lucky'_ he thought _'must have gone out for something'_

Sure that his relatives must be participating in some form of social torture in the name of being normal, he shuffled his way to the bathroom. Slipping his way into the room he locked the door behind him and turned his eyes to the mirror.

Now what Harry saw in the mirror was definitely not what he'd been expecting, in a word, greasy was the first thing that came to mind.

"Bloody Hell!" he squeaked,_ 'It's like the twins have gone and glued Snape's hair to my head'_ he stared horrified at the slick mess that had piled itself on the top of his head.

Flipping the shower faucet on he nearly ripped of the shower curtain trying to get himself under the stream of water, he did rip his clothes as he pulled them from his body and had almost forgotten to take off his socks as he stepped under the showerhead.

The implementation of some shampoo did wonders for erasing the image of having a greasy mop as a head. But other more insidious images crept to the forefront instead.

A graveyard settled on a backdrop of darkness.

A cruel smile and twisted laugh meeting him from the other end of a wand

A pair of empty eyes

"_Kill the spare!"_

Harry snapped open his eyes as he slammed his arm against the tiled wall.

Despite what he knew his friends must think, he wasn't depressed, maybe upset after all who wouldn't be. But it wasn't sadness that kept him awake at night.

No

He was angry.

Angry at himself for falling into Voldemort's clutches, and for dragging along someone innocent.

Angry at his friends for not believing in him, for not trying to reach out to him when he needed them.

Angry Dumbledore for closing him off from people when he needed them the most.

Angry at Wormtail for killing Cedric, taking him from his family and friends.

Angry at Voldemort for bringing the war to him when he was only a year old.

At everything and everyone he was whole heartedly and undeniably furious.

And it _terrified _him.

Harry had never regretted his actions when he was angry before. Not when he'd word off to Malfoy, definitely not when he blew up Aunt Marge last summer, not even when he'd argue with Ron.

But this kind of anger made him grit his teeth and clench his knuckles until they were white just waiting to lash out at someone. It unsettled him, feeling that violent. It reminded him of Voldemort, liberal with his curses and biting words. He knew wasn't like that; or at least he hoped.

He gave himself one last head to toe scrub before stepping out of the shower and wrapping up in one of the towels. Harry took a second to slip into some fresher clothing before heading down to the kitchen to grab something to eat while he could.

With his emotional state recently being what it was he knew something needed to be done. Therefore some deep soul-searching was in order. But it was unlikely that his plate of toast was going to hold the answer he needed.

Evidence of his lunch quickly and thoroughly disposed of he decided that while he was being attentive of his health that he might try to catch up on some sleep. His cot was just as stiff as usual but being able to avoid his problems for a bit was quite the sleep aide.

With eyes slipping shut a small part of him thoughtthat maybe getting away from everything was the answer, a bigger part reminded him that it was a ridiculous notion.

But in the last moment before the tired boy finally drifted off to sleep the tiniest piece of him way down deep inside thought for the first time… Why not?

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Thanks for reading.


	3. Lies Are Cheap

Hello! Thank you for the positive input, more will always be appreciated. Clarifying on the timeline I'm working on the assumption that Hogwarts lets out and the students return home sometime in mid-June. (Let's say around the 17th or so).

Thank you **anf600** for reminding me of our fine feathered friend Hedwig, she will be included post haste. Also there is a plan for Sirius, it should come up soon. This chapter will focus on Harry and him finding out a little about what's going on after coming out of his little daze. Thanks for reading.

I do not own Harry Potter. He and all the characters from the Harry Potter series belong to J.K Rowling.

'_Thought'_

"Speech"

"_Flashback"_

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Chapter 2: In Which Lies are Cheap

June 22nd – Location: The Smallest Bedroom, 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, England

Harry cracked his eyes open shaking off the remnants of a dream.

It had been nice for once, refreshing, one could even say comforting, like the smell of fresh chocolate chip cookies when you pull them from the oven, even if had seemed a little strange.

There had been no green lights, no screams, no scenes of torture, just…

…Too late, it was gone.

But there was still a small smile on Harry's face, a good feeling that would hopefully settle his restless mood swings through the rest of the day.

He swung his feet to the ground determined to actually accomplish something today rather than waste away over-thinking everything again. Slipping on a fresh set of clothes and stretching the last comforts of sleep from his body Harry slipped quietly out his door and down the hall.

Making his way downstairs he could smell sausages cooking in the pan and hear the clacking noise of a whisk tapping against a bowl.

Turning into the kitchen he saw his Aunt Petunia beating the life out of a bowl of eggs, wearing one of her bright floral print dresses starched to the consistency of plywood with her cooking apron over top and pinched look on her face like she had been witness to something rather unpleasant.

He snickered, the monstrosity of frills and a particularly unfaltering shade of pink she was wearing for an apron certainly looked unpleasant but that most likely wasn't the reason for her scowl.

"Aunt Petunia?" he asked, stepping further into the kitchen, he couldn't remember the last time he'd seen his aunt make breakfast, which was usually his job.

Though he realized _someone _had to be doing the cooking while he was away at Hogwarts.

At least it answered who had been doing the house chores while he had been… for lack of a better word, indisposed.

She whirled around a shocked look on her face getting strings of egg mixture all over the counter.

"There you are! Get in here and finish making breakfast" She paused eyeing the mess she had just made.

"And clean up this mess, just look at what you made me do"

Harry let loose a small sigh, his aunt's harping hardly bothered him, he had other things to worry about and it was nothing new.

"Of course Aunt Petunia" Harry moved to take a cloth to wipe up the sticky mess pausing as he came to stand next to his Aunt.

Her head moved up and down the tiniest bit, a quick look over him, she nodded satisfied that she had found whatever it was that she was looking for.

"Good, don't let it happen again, I have better things to be doing than cooking breakfast right now" she left the kitchen with a huff.

Looking a little incredulous Harry turned his attention to the breakfast. Petunia had seemed almost concerned.

He paused for a moment to let that sink in his _Aunt_ was _concerned_ on his behalf.

'Well it's more than I'm getting from anyone else at the moment' his grip on the whisk tightened a bit before he forced himself to drop back into the familiar and comforting motions of cooking.

If making the meals for the Dursleys had taught him anything it was how to make great food and appreciate the skills behind it.

Some eggs, bacon, orange juice, a fresh pot of tea and a not so short short-stack of pancakes later, Vernon had left for work, Petunia had gone to pay a visit to some of her friends. Most likely to exchange in a rather substantial amount of gossip and perhaps some tea; such is the lifeblood of suburban living. Dudley had gone out to who knows and who cares where and Harry found himself alone yet again.

And so time went by.

The dishes were washed and put away, the laundry done and folded, the floors swept and mopped, carpets vacuumed, surfaces were dusted and and after a brief break for a small sandwich around lunch the flowerbeds outside were weeded and the grass cut.

Efficient Harry made for Happy Dursleys.

As Harry worked his way through the extravagant list of tasks in a way that an ill-informed wizard would assume him to be some strange form of house elf, there was another presence on the property. A one Mundungus Fletcher alternatively known as Dung, a lazy thief whose face was sullen but who was a bit more round in the middle then one would expect of a man of his occupation. When not engaging in his chosen career Mundungus was also a member of The Order of the Phoenix, an order formed during the first rise of Voldemort dedicated to stopping the dark lord and assisting as many as they could in the process. Albus Dumbledore, the leader of said order had given to Mundungus a vitally important if simple task to perform. While Harry stayed at the Dursley home until he could join the rest of the Order in a safe place Dung was to keep hidden and guard Harry, making sure he got no news from the Wizarding world that could cause him undue stress.

Certainly a sound plan at the time of its conception, but not quite what Harry needed at this point in time.

And it was exactly at this point in time as Dung was sleeping beneath his invisibility cloak on the front yard and as Harry was rounding the corner of the house that a small crack of apparition signaled the arrival of another order member.

This member, a young Miss Nymphadora 'call me my first name and you'll regret it' Tonks was a new inductee to the order and as she was both an Auror with the ministry and a metamorphmagus, meaning she was capable of changing her form, she was quite the asset.

"Dung!" she hissed urgently "Get up, emergency meeting with the Order!"

"What the bloody hell for?"

"Doesn't matter! Is Harry inside?"

A disgruntled yes from Dung.

"Well then come on!" pulling the cloaked man to his feet she made to clear the perimeter of the house before apparating.

Now Harry after swiftly hugging the wall of the house in order to stay undiscovered had learned quite a bit in the few seconds of interaction that changed his understanding of his current situation.

1\. He was being watched

2\. His watcher weren't going to tell him anything

3\. He was so blaming Dumbledore for it

4\. He was pissed off

5\. Scratch that he was very pissed off.

As the pair of guards quickly made their way off the property Harry managed to catch some words that in comparison to what he had just heard would change far more about him then he could possibly imagine.

"Remus…..

lost… failed mission…..

clothes ….torn to shreds….

Recovery…..

…not going… make it…

Sirius is ….

Disappeared…..

Not… back..

abandoned…

…Harry…

stays… alone….

not sure…. Safe…

can't tell…

…they're probably de…"

A crack of displaced air cut off the last of the conversation.

Harry, wide eyed with shock slowly slid down the wall his mind reeling with questions '_Remus and Sirius? They're gone? But…to where? What does not going to make it mean? What's going to happen to me? Why did they leave me alone?' _

A flutter of snowy wings heralded the return of Hedwig from carrying letters for his friends, who promptly dropped a reply into Harry's lap.

Slowly tearing open the parchment, hoping that he would get his answers in the ink on the page only to have the fragile control on his emotions break and a numb feeling spread through his limbs.

_Harry_

_I'm afraid that you'll have to stay with your relatives until further notice. I must ask that you refrain from sending anymore letters. We'll be in touch._

_Dumbledore _

Crumpling the letter that was really more of a set of orders in his hands, Harry shrunk into himself saying in a quiet whisper.

"Please… don't leave me alone"

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Thanks for reading. So what's happened to Remus and Sirius and what's going to happen to poor Harry?

Next chapter we'll see what learning a little about Remus and Sirius does to Harry and what he wants to do about it.


	4. The Truth is Costly

Hello! Thank you for your positive feedback and continued interest in my story! It's now broken over 1000 views!

As a new author but a long time reader there are a few things I know I want to change when compared to the many stories like this one, it'll be tricky but I'll give it my best. Please don't be shy and let me know the kind of things you want to see in the future too! So feel free to shoot me a pm if you feel the need.

Here we go.

I do not own Harry Potter. He and all the characters from the Harry Potter series belong to J.K Rowling.

'_Thought'_

"Speech"

"_Flashback"_

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Chapter 3: In Which the Truth is Costly

June 22nd – Location: The Front Yard, 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, England

When it comes to describing pain there are many ways to do it.

Some think of it as a burning sensation, others a kind of cold numbness.

It can be called crushing-bruising-throbbing-pinching-pulling-squeezing and can make you question the logistics of evolving weak points like shins and funny bones- which everyone knows really aren't funny at all.

Yes pain can be many things but if you were to ask Harry Potter what kind of pain he was in now he would not reply, or more accurately he would be unable to reply.

Because his pain was the kind of pain that stole your breath away, beat you down and left you lying bloody in the streets.

It was that horrifying moment of gut wrenching fear when suddenly the only things between you and the ground are gravity and a bit of air.

His pain was that moment of being so lost that you may have very well slipped deep into one of those long cracks in the sidewalk, and thinking it can't possibly break your mother's back, because how is it _possible_ for _everything to hurt so much _if you're not the one who hasbeen _broken?_

That was Harry's pain.

And maybe it was that pain that was the last straw.

The final weight that tipped the scales and shattered poor Harry's heart – already damaged so deeply with anger and sadness– into thousands of pieces.

Then, from behind those broken pieces came every feeling that Harry had ever managed to shove down and trick himself into believing they didn't exist, seeming to flow from him and escape like a great sigh.

And just like that, Harry, for all his passion and pigheadedness, learned to _let go._

There is after all, nothing quite as therapeutic as a broken heart.

So as his troubles and worries dispersed, Harry became aware of a small voice in the back of his head.

'_Get up' _it said

And so he stood. Hedwig giving him a questioning bark.

'_Get your things'_

Striding back into the house Harry made quick work of finding a bag and stuffing it with the basic necessities. Clothes and other such things he required from day to day, and his wand. Sad that the wand was really all he considered as both important and his.

'_Money' _said the voice

Not one to argue he grabbed his minimal spending money, a few sickles and knuts in a drawstring bag.

'_Not enough'_

He shouldered his pack and slipped into the living room.

It was some time ago that Vernon had installed a safe into the wall rambling on about protecting his assets and other such nonsense.

The safe itself was very poor protection when Harry decided, with a great deal of satisfaction, to ram straight through the lock with the iron fire poker.

His trouble rewarded him with around 200 pounds or so.

'_Food'_

The pantry was promptly raided of its longer lasting items and the fridge of it's ready to eat products.

'_Go'_

And then he was gone.

Following the directions of a questionable voice in the back of his head Harry Potter successfully robbed the Dursley family, avoided his magical guards, left the supposed safety of number 4 privet drive, and completely ignored the fact he was probably having a severe mental breakdown, had no idea what he was doing and there were going to be a great amount of consequences for his actions.

It had taken all of 5 minutes.

20 minutes later Harry walked onto a Surrey bus.

'_Keep going' _said the voice.

15 minutes after that he was on a train.

'_More'_

40 minutes after that he stepped out into London.

'_More'_

Another 10 minutes and he walked through the doors of the St Pancras International train station.

As if the world had used its own personal brand of magic every piece fell quickly into place for Harry.

So it was with barely a thought circling in his most likely insane head and only about an hour and a half worth of time he settled himself into the first train he was able to purchase a ticket for and laid his head back and closed his eyes.

Not knowing, and not even caring what kind of chaos he would be setting off once the Order discovered him to have gone missing, a slightly crazed smile worked its way onto his lips.

It has been said that the journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.

Harry thought it might be nice to go even further.

The little voice agreed.

June 22nd – Leaving London by train.

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Thanks for reading. I know this may seem ridiculously abrupt, light on comedy and most definitely heavy on the emotion and angst but it's what I wanted to do with this chapter, you gotta break 'em before you build 'em up. People do crazy things when they're hurt after all. Next chapter will still be focused on Harry and probably having him come out of his temporary bout of mild insanity. After that we may check in with the Order and find out what they think.

Sorry for the long notes.

See you next time.


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